Road Test: Finger On The Pulse

I am what’s known as a twenty-first-century Luddite. A low-tech girl. The kind of person who thought email sounded “crazy” when she heard about it in the mid-90s, then blanched at the idea of a cell phone, BlackBerry, and iPhone in the following decade (before inevitably giving in to all three). I continue to operate these devices at a remedial level that shocks even my five-year-old cousin. The one exception to my raging technophobia in recent years has been the Clarisonic facial cleansing brush—a whirring, soft-bristled wand beloved by makeup artists (Gucci Westman) and dermatologists (Lisa Airan) for its ability to deep-clean and exfoliate the skin with, literally, the push of a button. It’s so simple, even a monkey could operate it. So when I hear that Clarisonic is launching the Opal—an oscillating (and similarly foolproof) new beauty tool that promises to erase crow’s feet—my curiosity is piqued. “I’ve tried it; it’s amazing. It looks like an iPod, and it actually works,” whispers Candy Pratts Price later the same week—leaving me to wonder briefly if there’s a black market for the palm-sized machines (which don’t come out until the end of the month), like the kind they have for kidneys. (As it turns out, Candy’s been reaping the Opal’s line-erasing benefits courtesy of Manhattan facialist Eileen Harcourt—who, after extensive begging, scored an advance model from the company.) Here’s how it works, according to Harcourt, whom I promptly call on her cell: A soft silicone applicator tip dispenses a supercharged eye serum to fine lines and crepey skin, using sonic micromassage. The idea, she explains, is that “stimulation increases the absorption of the product and speeds up cell turnover, which boosts collagen and elastic production.” In addition to taking it on house calls, she plans to sell the Opal on her cultish online beauty store (eharcourts.com), and use it to revive the eyes of sleep-deprived models backstage at shows like Chris Benz and VPL during next month’s New York Fashion Week. I plan to use mine in the privacy of my bathroom, which is where I’m barricaded the next day with my very own little machine (sneak preview provided by Clarisonic). One press of a button dispenses a pea-size dab of serum onto the applicator, while another sets its sleek white body pulsing. It takes a minute to get used to the peculiar vibrating sensation, which feels quite good as long as I use light pressure (anything more creates a vaguely uncomfortable, ticklish sensation). Forty seconds later I emerge with eyes that, if not those of the eight-year-old child I’d imagined, look noticeably tighter and brighter. And yes, it’s that easy. While it’s not on sale until early next week, the presale begins now at: clarisonic.com/us/opal/shop.php